


feelin' as good as lovers can (you know)

by GreyishBlue



Series: thoughts can bloom [1]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, College Student! Steve, Established Relationship, First Meetings, First Tattoo, Getting Together, I promise he doesn't mind, M/M, Makeouts, Multi, Steve gets Seduced, Tattooist! Bucky, ameriwinterhawk - Freeform, clear communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:18:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22430137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyishBlue/pseuds/GreyishBlue
Summary: Steve Rogers is many things, but foremost he’s a man of his word. Which is why he's nervously shifting from foot to foot in front of Arrows and Ink, putting off actually going into the tattoo parlor.Or: Steve goes to get a tattoo, it goes really really well.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: thoughts can bloom [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653574
Comments: 42
Kudos: 224
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo





	1. Arrows and Ink

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Winterhawk Bingo  
> Ch 1 for Punk AU  
> Ch 2 for College AU
> 
> Title from Panic! at the Disco - 9 in the Afternoon

Steve Rogers is many things, but foremost he’s a man of his word. Which is why he's nervously shifting from foot to foot in front of Arrows and Ink, putting off actually going into the tattoo parlor. He can see a few people milling around through the script covered windows, engrossed in looking at flash sheets across the walls and portfolios of art. The girl standing at the counter near the front catches his eye through the glass and offers a small smile with a raised eyebrow. It's just challenging enough to get his feet moving, even though the jingle of the bell above the door makes his heart race again. He can't remember his nerves being this active since he sprouted like a weed his first year of college, muscle piling on his body along with height. 

He heads straight for what he assumes is the front desk, determined to do what he came for. The dark haired girl grins at him with her deep purple lipstick, gold metal glinting down her ears, and it's probably not supposed to be predatory, but a shiver crawls up his spine anyway. 

"I uh.. I'm here for an appointment?" Steve halfway says, partially asks.

"Yep! Are you Bucky's 2pm?" He nods in response to her cheery tone, "I'm Wanda! Let's get you checked in."

There's paperwork, then some waiting, then he's staring into the face of a guy that might as well be out of one of his late night fantasties. It takes him way longer than it should to stand and introduce himself, holding out one slightly shaking hand to his soon to be tattoo artist.   
Bucky is pretty short, but the muscle piled on his frame makes Steve think he could kick the ass of anyone daring to comment on his height. His long chocolate hair is shorn down to his skull on one side, draped down his shoulder in waves on the other. There's a few shiny metal piercings decorating his face, a ring on the left side of his lower lip, a bar through an eyebrow, and a whole line of studs and rings down the one ear that Steve can see. His smile is blindingly bright, and Steve definitely stutters in the face of it. He can barely handle looking at the ink patterns trailing along Bucky's skin, feels kind of dumb and overwhelmed in the face of such an attractive man that is slated to shove ink into his skin shortly.

They end up in a room toward the back of the shop, mostly private despite the open doorway, and quiet compared to the lobby. Bucky keeps up some mindless chatter as he sets up his station, asking polite questions that aren’t too invasive, like he can tell Steve might be easy to spook. And sure it’s a little obvious, but it works. Steve can feel some tension dropping from his shoulders as he’s telling Bucky about the immensely stupid bet that landed him here today, and the wonderful friends that talked him into it. 

Steve can smell alcohol and something else that's almost soothing in comparison. He settles himself in the large, surprisingly comfortable chair when Bucky invites him to do so. He only startles a little when Bucky tells him to take off his shirt with a knowing smirk. There must be some panic in his face at it, because Bucky's voice goes all soothing and sweet when he says, "The piece is going on your pectoral, yeah?" 

Steve nods, makes a noise that he hopes is enough of a confirmation, and strips his shirt off like ripping off a bandaid. There's just a moment when Bucky's eyes slide across his chest that he thinks isn't entirely professional, but the guy schools his features quickly enough so Steve can't be sure. Placing the stencil and the rest of the set up seems normal as far as Steve can figure, and he relaxes through the process. Bucky’s voice is a soothing murmur as he describes the steps he’s taking, steely grey eyes flicking up to check that Steve is comfortable. Then Bucky is telling him to lay back, and setting gloved hands on his chest, and his heart is jackrabbiting again.

Steve knows it was reckless to bet against Tony, but he did, and now he's bound by his word to get this robotic raven across his right pectoral. He's just pathetically glad that their friend group managed to talk Tony down from his first idea of a red and gold monstrosity. At least this design is something he can like for himself and not just the result of an errant bet he's too proud to back out of.

Bucky keeps up a steady stream of distracting stories in a calm voice as he meticulously drags the lines into Steve's skin. The pain is bright and sharp, but thankfully each line settles into a slow burn after it's laid down, not much worse than a worked out muscle. Steve spends some time listening and humming along to the music filtering through a small speaker in the ceiling, but mostly he watches Bucky work. There’s something almost hypnotic about the focus in Bucky’s eyes. A steady rhythm in his hands as they move along, all those sure careful movements slowly creating an intricate work of art across the skin of Steve’s chest.

It's about the time that Bucky's thumb drags casually across his nipple to stretch his skin that Steve wonders if his tattoo artist might be single. It’s sort of an idle thought, something that flickers in his mind right along with the little jolt of pleasure that he feels guilty about. Which then leads to a revelation about himself he really wasn’t ready to have today, as the rest of the lines leave behind a sting that’s more intriguing than painful. He’s perversely glad that his blush started back when he entered the shop, at least he can’t be given away by it if it’s just been there most of the time anyway.

Steve is just starting to relax into the unique biting pain of the shading when a man walks in, all calm swagger like he owns the place. He's fuck-off tall, with a mess of short blonde hair and blue eyes that zero in immediately on Bucky's hands where they're basically caressing Steve's chest. For the dozenth time in the last few hours, Steve can feel a blush crawling down his neck and blooming across the skin Bucky is so carefully working on.   
When the man gets close enough for Bucky to notice him, he perks up happily and tilts his perfectly scruffy jaw up toward him. The blonde leans down (and down and down, god how tall do they even make people?) to press a possessive kiss against Bucky's lips. Steve tries his damnedest to not stare, or at least not get caught, but a soft sound escapes his throat and he finds himself pinned by icy blue and slate grey eyes all at once. 

There’s a moment where they’re evaluating him, so clearly and openly that Steve feels much more naked than he really is. Then they look to each other, and there’s some wordless communication between them that’s incomprehensible to Steve, but he shudders at the predatory smile that ends up on the blonde’s freckled face. Bucky just goes back to filling in the shadows of a feather, and the other man raises a calloused looking hand to Steve in greeting.

“Hey, you’re Steve, yeah? I’m Clint, Buck’s dreamboat!” He grins at Bucky’s little snort of amusement and continues, “And husband, I guess. But whatever. First tattoo, huh?”

“Uh, yeah. It was a bet. Nice to meet you?” Steve is sort of sure he got some of the order of the words wrong, but there’s a little part of his heart breaking about the definitely-not-single tattooist, and another kind of destroyed still from the image of him kissing his husband.

“Glad Buck’s here to take good care of you, then.” There’s nearly a purr in Clint’s tone, and he winks with a dashing comic flair, “He sure does love the pretty blonde boys, hmm?”

Before Steve can sputter up a response, Bucky’s hand is splayed across his chest steadying him. He’s back to that soothing voice he used before he’d started tattooing when he says, “Relax, Clint’s just an asshole.” 

“Pffft, your favorite asshole, n’ don’t you forget it, honey bunch.” Clint’s face is all laugh lines and freckles, plus one bandaid just across a cheekbone, the perfect picture of friendly when he turns back to Steve to ask, “You should let us take you for a beer when Buck’s done, celebrate the first one, yeah?”

Steve hesitates when he realizes Bucky has stopped working and is looking at him, a little careful and calculating, like the question might be bigger than it seems. Still, the answer is the same, even if Steve is a little concerned he’s out of his depth, “Sure, as long as I’m allowed? Right?”

Bucky grins big, does a little move with his lip ring that’s got to be an ingrained tic for how smooth it is, “As long as you don’t go getting entirely drunk, you’re fine. And I’ll go over all of your aftercare with you once we finish up. Which I could do much sooner if this mook lets us get to it.” The glare he sends up at Clint has no menace in it, but it works anyway, the blonde giving them both another little wave as he retreats to some other part of the shop.

The rest of the tattoo goes quick and easy, Steve’s too distracted with his wandering mind to really care about the sting as it’s being wiped down and bandaged. He really does try to listen to the aftercare instructions, but he realizes that he’s staring at Bucky’s lips halfway through and very responsibly asks if he could have a written version of them to refer to later. Bucky doesn’t even give him shit for it, just pulls out a printed sheet and hands it over. 

“I’m gonna get this all cleaned up, you can square up your payment with Wanda in front.” Bucky looks right into Steve’s eyes for a moment, just enough to make sure he’s paying attention, then sweeps that knowing gaze all the way down Steve’s body before continuing, “You still wanna get that drink, I’ll be out in about ten.”

Steve nods a little jerkily and goes to do as he’s told, handing over what he owes to Wanda. He makes sure to leave a good tip, having been on the receiving end of friend’s rants about people not tipping artists. Then he’s faced with a choice that feels more weighty than it should. He knows Bucky gave him an out, but he’s not entirely sure what he’s signing up for. He looks at the front door, which would just entail going home and the end of this stupid bet he made with Tony. After a moment’s thought, which prominently features Bucky and Clint’s lips locked together in his mind’s eye, he settles his bulk into one of the plush chairs in the corner of the lobby to wait for them.


	2. Cage's Bar

It’s almost exactly ten minutes when Bucky comes swaggering out, not that Steve was at all keeping time. Clint is with him, an arm wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders and teasingly pressing quick kisses to the top of his head, where one of them braided Bucky’s long hair back in a line that somehow enhances his jaw to make him even more devastating. Bucky’s eyes immediately fix on Steve, and he feels like a cornered animal and hidden treasure all at once. Clint’s low chuckle doesn’t really soothe him, but when the blonde walks over to offer him a hand up, he takes it gratefully. It’s still messing with Steve a little bit, that Clint’s taller than him, he’s so unused to ever looking up at anyone. He knows Bucky catches him at it, that little bit of wonder, and he’s sharing a little conspiratory grin with Steve that Clint doesn’t really see because it’s right under his eye line. 

“Ya’ good with Cage’s, Stevie?” Bucky’s voice is something different now, Steve shivers a little at the tone and nickname before he can wrangle up a smile in answer. 

“Love that place, Jess can kick my ass any day.” Steve replies, delighting in the snort laugh that overtakes Clint at that, so he can barely hold the door open for them as they make their way out.  
Cage’s is a small bar a few blocks down, never popular with Steve’s usual college crowd because of the slightly cramped space and the picky nature of the owners. Neither Luke nor his wife Jessica take any nonsense, which doesn’t work out so well for drunk college students usually. Steve had worked his way into their good graces earlier in the year when he played designated driver to not only his friends, but a few other patrons that planned their nights poorly.

Steve is glad for the familiar setting, it's one thing to keep him steady in a day of new experiences. But beaten wood benches and Luke's boisterous manner do nothing to stop the way his stomach swoops when Bucky and Clint get in his space. They’re both casual about it, touches easy and playful. Bucky takes Steve’s wrist gently to lead him toward the back, and Steve follows, pretending that Bucky’s thumb sliding along his pulse isn’t distracting him entirely. Clint stays back at the bartop to, as he put it, “Wrastle us up some brews.”

They’re debating the merits of local versus imported beer when Bucky lays one warm hand easily on Steve’s knee, and Steve startles a little. Bucky pulls his hand away quickly, a furrow in his brow when he says, all low and soft, “Hey, you okay there Stevie? Neither of us are here for anything that’d make you uncomfortable. Clint’s an unrepentant flirt and I’m probably not much better, but give us the word and we’ll lay off, alright?”

“It’s not. I’m okay. Fuck.” Steve closes his eyes for a moment to get his bearings, he’s an adult and knows how to talk to men, damnit. “Sorry, I’m just not sure what’s going on, I guess? You’re married?” He feels a little dumb saying it out loud like that, but Bucky’s eyes go all crinkly and warm so it can’t have been the wrong thing to say. 

“Mm, yep. We sure are. Clint wasn’t lying, I do like the pretty blondes. So does he.” Then Bucky’s grin goes wicked, “We’d like you at the same time, with us, if you’d be interested.”

Steve’s world goes a little shimmery at the edges as Bucky’s words sink in. His brain immediately supplies him with vivid images of being held between the two men, of how Bucky’s strong nimble hands might contrast with Clint’s longer calloused fingers, of Bucky’s voice rumbling low into his ear, all full of confidence and command. 

He manages to stutter out a soft ‘gods yes’ in reply to Bucky just as Clint drapes himself into the booth, leaving Steve bracketed by them. Bucky’s eyes flicker up to Clint and his hands move in an intricate little gesture that Steve belatedly recognizes as sign language. Clint’s smile is bright and goofy when Steve turns to him, he scoots in closer and drapes an arm across Steve’s shoulders. With him this close, Steve can see that one of the purple things decorating Clint’s ear is a hearing aid, cleverly surrounded by matching studs.

Steve is fairly certain he’s going to burst into flames at any moment, all the little places where Bucky and Clint are touching him feel bright and alive. He’s proud of himself for how well he manages to sip at his beer. Not usually a challenge, but Clint’s questing fingers dipping into the collar of his shirt while Bucky’s glinting eyes are on them both, hungry and pleased… everything seems a little more difficult to manage. The two men play off of each other and Steve like they’ve got a manual somewhere titled “How to Destroy Steve Rogers”. They’re all holding a conversation that might be called normal by an observer, if that observer couldn’t see Steve’s bright blush and the way Clint’s breath ghosting over his neck makes him squirm.

“Do you want to kiss him?” Clint’s question is just a whisper, but with the way he’s almost wrapped around Steve by this point, that’s as loud as he needs to be. Steve turns, syrupy slow, to see Bucky leaning back like he couldn’t have a care in the world, like his husband feels up other men in front of him all the time. He’s perfectly casual, the tip of his tongue playing with the ring through his lip as he waits for Steve to make up his mind. Honestly, Steve’s mind was made up as soon as Bucky made it clear what they wanted from him, but he appreciates their gentle check ins, it makes him feel cared for.

“Please?” Is what he ends up saying, breathless like he’s gone running instead of sitting in a dingy corner booth. Then Bucky slinks forward, all predatory and possessive, his hands cradling Steve’s jaw as he presses their lips together. Once softly, like a test, then Steve’s being kissed like he’s precious and breakable and Bucky wants just a bit to break him. His teeth nip at Steve’s bottom lip, and he takes full advantage of Steve’s soft gasp of pleasure to lick into his mouth. Steve loses a solid couple of heartbeats when he feels metal sliding along his tongue, the bar through Bucky’s something new and tantalizing he’s never had in a kiss before. There’s a deep rumble of appreciation that he can feel along his side, Clint practically purring into his ear, taking easy advantage of Steve’s tilted head to drag a few lingering kisses across the column of his neck. 

When Bucky pulls away, Steve tries to lean back into his lips with a whimper, but strong fingers on his jaw keep him still. He opens eyes he doesn’t really remember closing to see Bucky watching him, pupils blown wide, lips red and a little shiny. Then there’s a gentle pressure along his jaw, Bucky turning him easily to face Clint, who looks absolutely gone on mostly having watched them thus far. Steve realizes what’s coming a second before Bucky is tilting him up and Clint is leaning down, capturing his lips. Clint’s kiss feels entirely different from Bucky’s, all soft and slow exploration. He’s noisier too, little happy sounds escaping between their mouths when there’s any room between them. Bucky’s hands slide down, carefully avoiding where Steve’s chest is bandaged under his shirt, to brush the soft strip of skin just above his belt. It’s all Steve can do to just hold on for dear life, kissing Clint for all he’s worth, sparks lighting up along his spine.

Steve gasps when he feels both of the other men’s hands toying with the edge of his jeans, like they’re thinking of stripping him down right here in the middle of the bar. That thought sends a shiver through him, half lust and half downright fear of what Jess would do to him for daring that kind of shenanigans in her bar. He says as much when Clint finally comes up for air, and he’s surrounded by delighted giggles a moment later. They both pull back a little, to give themselves room to breathe and be vaguely more publicly acceptable, but they keep their hands gently caressing Steve. 

When his breathing is starting to get back to normal, though his heart continues to patter too quickly, he turns to Bucky with a question, “What now?”

“Now I ask if you’d like to come home with us, you think it over while I settle our tab, and tell me what you want when I get back.” Then Bucky is standing, leaving Steve with Clint still partially in his lap. Clint’s just watching him, fingers toying with the edge of one of Steve’s sleeves. Casual like whatever answer Steve has for them will be alright. 

“You’re both really okay with this, right?” he asks Clint, and his voice is smaller than he’s used to hearing, but it’s not the easiest question to ask, not when he feels so invested in the answer.

“Hell yeah, doll. Wouldn’t have ya’ here like this if we both didn’t want you.” Clint raises one hand in an approximation of the Eagle Scout salute, “Scout’s honor!”

“You weren’t even a scout, baby.” Bucky’s got a smile on his face that’s clearly love filled, and even though it’s pointed at Clint, Steve blushes. They’re both gorgeous, want him, and have done their best to communicate and make him comfortable. Really, his answer is easy.

“Please, take me home with you?”


End file.
